


Portraits of Bruce Wayne in the Summer of '19

by jessequicksters



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, these tags may seem antithetical and yet they remain true and accurate, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters
Summary: Clark finds his place in Bruce's eclectic family; they continue riding the high of their relationship in domestic bliss; they visit Ma in Kansas to work in the fields, and somehow, they still manage to find time for dirty trysts in semi-public bathrooms.All in all, it's been a pretty good summer.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 190





	Portraits of Bruce Wayne in the Summer of '19

It’s funny how different Bruce looks under the sun. Not just because Clark usually only sees him at night, dressed up as a bat in grimy alleyways, or under the bright flashing lights of paparazzi during nights of reportage when both of them are on the job for the press—but because Bruce looks so relaxed when it’s daylight, when he’s alone and no one’s looking.

Well, no one but Clark.

Bruce drops his sunglasses down to the brink of his nose and gives Clark a stern look. “Still staring?”

Clark smiles at him from the sunbed next to his, breathing in the scent of pool-chlorine and martinis prepared by Alfred. It’s all a little too extravagant for a Sunday for Clark, really, but he’s dating Bruce Wayne.

“Nope,” Clark says, turning back to his book, flicking over a page.

“I don’t mind it,” Bruce says, “when you stare. Does wonders for my self-esteem.”

“Sure it does,” Clark says, ignoring him for his book.

And then Dick arrives, hurling Damian into the pool, and the tiny book of philosophy gets soaked in his hands.

-

They kiss under the stars, whenever Clark takes him to visit Ma back home. Bruce loves the fresh air of the outdoors. He looks like a child who’s never seen the sun before, every time Clark takes him out into the fields for a walk or to help out with the farm during the day.

They’re loading the barley onto the back of the truck when Bruce leans over, sweat beads dripping down from his forehead, hair falling over his face. He’s in jeans, boots and a checkered shirt—the full gear, and Clark has all the gods to thank for it today. Clark wishes he could capture this, somehow, lock it away in a chest somewhere for a rainy day.

“You ever thought of staying here? It’s a good life, honest work.”

Clark raises an eyebrow. “You trying to weasel your way in the Metropolis superhero market?”

He ties another bundle of barley before tossing it into the truck. Bruce just watches him, offers no help whatsoever.

“I’m just curious. Did you always dream of being a reporter? Who taught you that?”

Clark shrugs. “You grow up in a small town where everyone watches the same news channel, reads the same paper—now, throw being an alien into the mix. You wouldn’t think that would make a person want to dig out the truths of the world?”

“Point taken,” Bruce says, grabbing hold of his hand as he kisses him, slow and steady.

At night, they’re on the front porch, drinking Ma’s homemade iced-tea, and Bruce is telling her stories of Gotham, and of his kids.

“Maybe you could teach Clark a thing or two about raising kids. I’ve always waited for the day he would bring home grandkids.”

“Ma—” Clark groans.

“What? Bruce has got six kids already—”

“Seven—” Clark interrupts.

“Sometimes we like to count nine, or—” Bruce says, and Clark shoots him a look that tells him _don’t encourage her_.

Bruce pauses for a moment, seemingly letting this go, but he plasters on a smile and tells Ma, “I’ll make sure we bring one home next time.”

She looks absolutely delighted.

-

Clark sits in the study of Wayne Manor with Cass sometimes, late at night when Bruce is working in the Cave and when neither of them can sleep. Cass has a penchant for reading philosophy too but encourages Clark to branch out on an array of subjects: ancient history, alchemy, mysticism, and war novels tend to be her subject area.

They read side by side and rarely ever speak. Clark can hear when her heartbeat starts slowing down and she dozes off for the night.

This particular night, she ends up asleep on Clark’s shoulder in her black jumper. Clark considers carrying her to bed, but he doesn't want to startle her with any sudden movements.

So he just sits there, reading until its way past midnight and Bruce suddenly walks in.

“Clark, I’ve been waiting for you in bed—” he starts and notices the scene in front of him. Cass’ eyes twitch open, and Clark has her arm around her. She yawns and stretches her arms.

“Goodnight—” Clark starts to say, just as she wraps her arms around him for a hug. She kisses him on the cheek, walking off as she gives Bruce a hug goodnight, too.

When she’s gone, Bruce gives him a look that reads: _I’m proud of you; I love you; you’re family._

Clark knows that much because Bruce makes it a point to spell it out when they’re in bed that night, showering him with words of adoration on an otherwise quiet night in bed.

-

Bruce ends up with bruises in both eyes after a particularly rough fight with Black Mask. Dick and Tim were hovering over him for most of the night, watching as Alfred stitched him up. Bruce had shooed them away as harshly as he could, but these kids have grown up with no fear, as Clark has learned.

So Clark tries, gently, to ask them to give Bruce some space.

He learns, then, that they move for him when he tells them to. With Dick, Bruce told him about his Superman-worship phase when he was a kid, and Clark remembers it all from when they first met back in the day. He was a bright one—they all are, really, and every time he sees any of them he’s reminded of the man who raised them.

A man, who, despite being battered and bruised nearly every night in the ugliest, most hostile parts of the city with nothing more than a manmade suit of armor around him, fights back every day in the hopes of building a better city for those he loves.

“Let me go after them,” Clark says, gritting his teeth.

“No, it has to be me,” Bruce says, holding an ice pack to his face, trying to make repairs to his gear with his free hand.

Clark takes away the ice-pack and blows a gentle gust of ice onto his face. “That should hold for a while.”

Bruce smiles weakly, ice crystals glimmering like a protective layer of film around his eyes. “Thanks. But you’re not going out there—if they see Superman interfering in Gotham, yet again, this is going to blow up into a political thing, and _both_ our lives will get much harder. It has to be me, or the kids. They’ll take care of it.”

“Then let me take care of you,” Clark says, lifting up Bruce in his arms.

He doesn’t hear another peep from Bruce, except for a resigned huff, so Clark commences carrying him back into the Manor and in bed.

-

It’s the last day of summer, and Clark’s covering a big event in National City, with Bruce Wayne on the guest list. He can’t seem to get a free moment though, with Lois out sick and Perry pushing him to get interviews of a bunch of people he couldn’t care less about.

Serendipitously, he bumps into his cousin there.

“Hey,” Kara says, struggling not to drop the various array of recording equipment in her hands. “If you’re looking for Bruce, he’s out in the lobby for a couple more photos.”

“I know,” Clark says, “need some help with that?”

“No, ‘m fine,” Kara waves him off, but Clark helps her out anyway, grabs a microphone and recorder from her hands. He knows that Cat Grant makes her go old school with this thing and doesn’t let any of them use phones.

“Hey, maybe you can help me wrap this night up sooner?” Clark says as Kara adjusts the glasses on her face the same time he does.

“I am known to be quick,” she says, “what do you need?”

Turns out, dividing and conquering makes for a very efficient method of getting interviews. Also, the fact is, super-hearing makes eavesdropping on conversations too easy, and they end the night with a stack of notes and leads for follow-up interviews much later.

As Kara heads off for the night, Clark bumps into Bruce on the way to the restrooms.

“God, save me,” Bruce says, clutching onto his arms tightly. He lets go as soon as he sees a woman walk past, and the two of them politely smile at her. She doesn't seem to be concerned at all.

Of course, being Bruce Wayne, the next course of action involves shoving Clark into a bathroom stall, albeit a very fancy, very large, bathroom stall—it’s still a bathroom stall, and they’re meant to be on official business at one of the most high-profile events in the country.

“What are you doing?” Clark laughs, as quietly as he can, but Bruce is already undoing his tie and Clark leans into the cool marble walls as he lets himself be defaced by the billionaire, playboy, Bruce Wayne. This is it then—the peak of their relationship.

“Hope your microphones are all turned off, we don’t want The Daily Planet listening, now, do we?” Bruce says, and Clark actually has to fumble through his pockets to check that everything’s been turned off, and thank god, they are.

Bruce kisses him, leaving a trail down his neck, all the way down to his torso, and unbuckles the belt around his waist.

“Stop,” Clark says breathlessly, and Bruce shoots a glance up.

“What?”

“I want to look at you. Like this. Bruce Wayne, Summer of 2019, on his knees in a gold-plated toilet stall.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then Clark sees it, that look of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got a better portrait for you, Mr. Kent.”

Clark almost misses it, because Bruce puts his cock in his mouth and he instinctively tips his head back. They’ve had their fair share of semi-public trysts, but there’s something about the hot summer air today—it’s been making him dizzy all day, and thirsty, and now being in an offensively expensive building with air-conditioning on blast—it’s driving him to _lose it._

He slips his phone out of his pocket and waggles it in front of Bruce’s face, who is, admittedly, too preoccupied to be able to reply with his mouth, but his eyes are saying: _do it,_ and there’s a wicked grin that flashes over.

-

In the years that they’ve been together, Clark and Bruce have generally been pretty good at keeping mementos of their relationship. Photos, items from missions, souvenirs from the places they’ve been (and no, Kryptonite doesn’t count, as Clark had sternly told Bruce), but there is one thing that neither of them will truly forget.

2019 wasn’t a very well documented year, for some reason. Maybe they were busy, or there weren’t many photo opportunities in between crime-fighting, children-raising, and etcetera etcetera.

But every time either of them reach into the top drawer of their bedside table (which has been dubbed the sex-toy drawer), there’s a photo of Bruce in a suit, sucking off Clark in a bathroom stall at some god awful party, and Clark never fails to smile when he sees it, and Bruce always, _always,_ blushes.

Looking back, it had been a pretty good summer, after all.


End file.
